I just want to say that I'm not sure of the dates so I guessed them. They sounded about right. Also, the bold parts are obviously Angelus speaking in Angel's head.
This story is only three chapters so far. It may go into four but that's it. It's just a small story on what if Angel had unknowingly met Buffy before Whistler showed her to him.
Haven't I seen you before?
Chapter 1
Paris, 1897
They rejected him.
Buildings blazed all around him but his pain filled gaze took in nothing. He didn't see the vampires ravenously devouring the frightened humans, didn't see the livestock escaping through the street, trampling people in their haste to escape the rapidly burning city, didn't see the rapid deterioration of a once great city. He saw only pain. His own and the amounts of which he'd caused others.
The souled vampire, formally know as the demon Angelus, Scourge of Europe, was at a loss for what to do. His sire and clan had rejected him, his mind was filled with the horrors of the last one hundred years and his body shook with the uncontrollable craving for fresh blood. He felt as though he were only newly risen, unable to control his urges and completely disorientated.
In one night he had lost everything that meant something to him. Blood tears streaked down his face, making him look more a victim than he already did. 'Are you okay?' a woman approached him slowly.
He smiled painfully. Even in times of great destruction, the generosity of the human race astounded him. 'Not in the least,' he said.
Before the woman could respond, a vampire grabbed her from behind and sank his fangs into her neck. The Soul didn't even notice.
What was he? A abomination to the race of vampires, a vampire with soul, a conscience yet he didn't fit into the human world either. He still couldn't walk in the sun, enjoy food or die an old man so where did he fit? Where did he belong?
You don't belong anywhere, Soul boy, a snide voice whispered though his head.
He froze for an interminable amount of seconds. The voice seemed to come from his head. The Soul's face crumbled as he realised it was the demon. It was still inside him. There to taunt him, to remind him of the atrocious crimes he committed for all eternity.
It doesn't have to be forever… you could surrender. Give yourself back over to me. You wouldn't feel a thing anymore. Bliss.
NO. The Soul's mind, though distressed and confused, came together enough to baulk at the thought of giving the demon back control. More people would die and as upset as he was, he couldn't knowingly let that happen. His newly acquired conscience was screaming No! at him so loud it was impossible to ignore it.
Look at them, the demon scoffed. So scared, frightened, all that blood pumping through their veins, going to waste, just begging for you to drain them.
Get out of my head, The Soul was in too much pain to put up too much of a fight. He just wanted to crawl up into a dark space and stay there for the rest of his life, which would pretty much be forever. That wasn't right. He shouldn't get to live forever when so many had dies at his hands. His only option was to remove himself from this existence.
He couldn't stake himself. Everything in him rebelled against that. It was not an honorable death. Honorable, he scoffed. That does not apply to me any longer.
You're right there, Soul boy, Angelus laughed in glee. Honorable you're not. Cowardly, maybe…
The Soul assessed his options. Dawn was approaching in a few hours, it was a more acceptable death than a self-staking. Yes, that was the answer. Decision made, he surveyed the horrific scene around him with clearer eyes. People were dying everywhere, buildings were burning and crumbling as he watched. He picked up a broken piece of cart from the ground. If he was going to die, he might as well take as many of his kind as he could with him.
He started staking the vampires, beginning with the one draining the woman who had spoken to him. There was no hope for her but at least he saved her from being turned. The vampires were easy game. Spike had already killed the Slayer so they were relaxed and unworried.
He moved through the town, staking vampire after vampire, delighting in the surprised looks on their faces, more than once picturing his Sire's face or his Childers'. Darla, jab, Spike, jab, Drusilla, jab, they all fell under his furious attacks. No vampire was safe.
For two hours he staked every vampire within reach of his makeshift stake and it filled him with a sense of rightness. Every time he shoved the piece of wood through a dead heart, a little piece of his soul leapt for joy but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
He stopped and dropped his stake. He took a deep breath and lifted his face to the sky. Dawn was mere minutes away; the sky was already tinged with pink. He had to get to high ground. He took one last look at the centre square he had found himself in. Bodies littered the ground, some barely alive, some long dead and he felt regret such as he had never known.
The wind picked up, scattering the piles of dust his keen eyes had missed and he smiled grimly. No matter what, he knew he had made a difference this day. He only prayed the difference was good.
The sun never came.
The Soul stood there, on the top of the old church, the one place, ironically, that hadn't suffered fire damage, waiting for the sunrise that never arrived. Clouds covered the morning sky, preventing even the smallest sliver of light from escaping through. The Soul remained there for hours but the sky did not clear. If The Soul had been paying attention, he would have realised the clouds were not natural. They had rolled in too fast, they didn't blow with the wind; they just seemed to hang there, blocking the sun.
Eventually, he clambered down off the high roof. The sun seemed to not want to come out while he was standing there. He turned and made his way slowly down the cobblestone streets. The scent of blood was stirring his senses and he involuntarily slid into game face. He turned his head, denying the cravings of the demon.
He kept trying to push the demon to the background of his mind but it was no use. Why should you steer? Last time you did, you ended up in an alley and I was made. Angel couldn't deny that so he kept quiet.
Angelus' constant taunting was wearing him out. The demon was furious it would be stuck behind the Soul for the rest of eternity and it he was letting The Soul know it. The constant snide remarks and put downs were slowly chipping away at The Soul's sanity. It took mere hours to break The Soul and send him scampering. It was easy, almost too easy.
Los Angeles, 1989
The Soul kept to the alleys, keeping out of sight. The world had changed enormously since the days of Angelus. People were braver, smarter… stupider. They walked into alleys without care, wandered around during the night, practically waiting to be attacked and it amazed him how ignorant the human race had become.
Vampire attacks, strange deaths, weird portals over a town, were forgotten mere days after the event. Life continued and it amazed The Soul of how versatile the race was.
He slipped further down the alley, following the squeaks that meant dinner. The rat had escaped him for the past two nights. He was starving. He lunged, just as it emerged from the garbage bins it had been hiding behind. He snatched up the furry little rodent and immediately brought it to his lips, ravenously sinking his fangs into it squirming body. The warm blood flooded over his tongue as he sucked greedily.
He finished his meal and threw the body away disgustedly. Uh, this is what you've reduced us to, eating rodents from an alley, barely keeping alive. Great way to live, you wanker.
The Soul ignored him as he usually did and shakily got to his feet. He steadied himself on a wall. The rats were only keeping him alive. The small amount of blood the rats gave him only satisfied his blood lust. After that, he took no more. Since his turn all those years ago, he hadn't had a proper meal from anything. He could never catch enough rats, he was too weak and he refused to eat from humans.
A scream from the mouth of the alley had him shrinking down into the garbage, desperate not to be seen. A woman was dragged into the alley by her neck but The Soul knew it wasn't a vampire clutching her. What he saw next, stunned him. The woman held tightly to a little girl, no more than ten and both were crying.
The Soul sank further against the wall into the garbage. It was not his place to interfere. He was not human; he was a demon, a murderous, sick and twisted demon. The woman began to plead. 'Please, don't hurt my little girl, please, I'll do anything.'
The assailant slapped her hard and The Soul saw her head strike the wall behind her. 'Hand over your belongings,' he growled at the now groggy woman. The little girl clung to her mother who clung back. Even stunned and disorientated, the instinct for protection was strong.
'Please, don't hurt her,' the woman pleaded again as she handed over her purse. Her hand returned to wrap protectively around her daughter.
The mugger laughed and pulled out a small knife. 'Hows about I gut her instead?' he moved towards the young girl who instantly started to cry, pushing herself further into her mother's arms.
The Soul watched the scene wide eyed, fear keeping him where he was. What if he lost control and attacked them? What if the looked at him and saw the demon lying behind the mask?
The mugger grabbed the little girl and she screamed. The scream tore straight though The Soul and he couldn't watch any longer. He lunged at the attacker and grabbed him by the throat. He knocked his hand against the ground until the knife clattered to the cement and punched him a few times in the face. His anger came to the fore and he viciously continued to pound into the mugger.
A little hand softly touched his back and he swung round, coming face to face with the most beautiful green eyes he'd ever seen. The little girl, stood staring at him, eyes wide and he realised with horror and shame that he was still in game face.
The young girl reached forward and touched a small hand tenderly to his face, a lock of her blonde hair fell across her face but she ignored it. His eyes closed momentarily, enjoying the first human contact he'd had in almost a hundred years before it registered in his mind what was happening. He tore away from the tiny girl and ran for all he was worth down the alley and away from the little girl made of sunshine.
Her mother would be okay, he knew. Pussy, Angelus growled. You could have had fresh blood. She wasn't even afraid. All you had to do was reach out and take her hand. We could have feasted like kings. Children were always so tender. Remember that time in Rome?
Angel groaned and held his head in his hands. Damn Angelus. He had to stay away from the human population. Saving them was not his thing.
He only ended up screwing it up.
What did you think? Let me know. This is one of my personal faves of mine